


Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

by forwarduntovictory



Series: In the Mulberry Tree [1]
Category: Fast and the Furious Series, Hobbs & Shaw (2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 06:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20943560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forwarduntovictory/pseuds/forwarduntovictory
Summary: AU | Brixton Lore wins. Luke Hobbs and Deckard Shaw are dead. Now there's only Hattie left to deal with.





	Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

Brixton doesn't regret joining Eteon. He doesn't. There's nothing regrettable about saving mankind from its own hubris.

Nothing except for— 

* * *

_ Hattie's wide-eyed stare. Her blue, blue eyes are a kaleidoscope of agony, shifting with the shades of her hatred. _

* * *

—Deckard's refusal. It stings worse than the bullets Deckard put in his chest and head nearly a decade prior, worse than even the implants do, because that pain is so very _ physical _ while this kind, this kind is _ not _. It frustrates him more than it does anything else. Because there's nothing physical about the pain in his chest as Hattie glares at him with enough rage and agony to kill a man thrice over.

But Brixton has been dead for a long, long time. Long before her brother killed him.

He wants to beat her like he did Deckard. He wants to feel her bones snap beneath his hands as she cries and cries, begging for the mercy she denied him. But—_ but _ he wants her to see as well. See that this isn't the tragedy she's made it out to be but a new beginning.

Albeit, one bathed in her brother's blood.

Eteon wants _ her _.

* * *

_ It's always been her. Long before Deckard and him are brothers, there is Hattie with her wicked smile and quick tongue. Brixton never fancied himself a sucker for the blue-eyed, bottle blondes, but he's found he really doesn't care so long as she looks at him like _ that _ . _

_ Like he's everything he always wanted to be. _

* * *

Luke Hobbs and Deckard Shaw were muscle, crude but passionate, where Hattie is a blade slipping between ribs. Precise, cold, and so, so very efficient. Her hatred is dry ice ready to snap your fingers off. It's all he can see as they leave the wreckage of Samoa. As they fly further and further away, the bodies of her brother and the American vanish into tiny black specks until there's nothing to see at all.

One day, he thinks, she'll understand that what he's done is for the best. It'll take time, it'll take patience, but he can break her spirit and reforge her into something better, something his. Eteon will make her into the woman she always was meant to be.

It's this thought that stills any traitorous, dangerous feelings from welling in the empty cavity that is his heart.

* * *

_ He doesn't believe a word he says, but it's too late. Eteon owns his soul and mind. _

* * *

The last strongholds of the Old—_ Free _—World will be sandcastles beneath his boot soon enough. But Hattie's haunted look is enough to push the dreams of the future aside as he shoves her into one of several Eteon labs.

"Get out," he barks to the technicians inside.

They're rats scurrying out of the room. A jerk of his head has the Eteon enhanced soldiers that accompanied them situating themselves outside the door. They're good men, picked specifically for their discretion. They don't blink any eye even as Hattie sends them looks.

_ Help me, you bastards. _

_ I'll kill every last one of you. _

_ Don't leave. _

In her handcuffs, Hattie blisters. Sweat clings to her like a second skin, and each tremble has her glistening. Idly, he thinks she looks a lot like a warrior queen. Aífe, he names her in his mind. The only woman to best Cú Chulainn. But still Aífe fell to trickery, loving her chariot and horses more than herself. Just as Aífe bore Cú Chulainn a son, Hattie would give birth to a new world order.

As he nears her, he wonders if this is what it's like to stand in the sun. But he's never been afraid of the sun, so he presses her into the edge of a desk and holds her by the throat. She doesn't cry out, doesn't struggle, doesn't do anything—_ he wishes she would _—but glares at him. Tears leave angry lines down her face, and he resists the urge to wipe them away like he once had so very long, long ago.

"We are on the brink of extinction. Everything I do is for the betterment of this world. Your brother didn't understand that. Big guy didn't either, but you," he juts a finger at her, "you will understand."

Her smile is just as wicked as before, cutting him where he stands. "Or what? You'll kill me?"

He contemplates it. With his hand wrapped around her neck, it'd be so easy to squeeze and watch the life drain from her eyes. Unconsciously, he does just that. Gives enough of a squeeze to watch the panic spark in her eyes as her hands go to drive into his stomach. Except he sees it before she can. He grabs the bar between the cuffs and tugs her hands back down.

"That's not gonna work," he says.

Hattie's smarter than Hobbs and Deckard. She complies. Not because she's suddenly decided to join the right side but because she's biding her time. Brixton sees the leopardess in her pacing its cage, teeth bared and ears laid back.

Hattie lifts an eyebrow at him even as he pushes into her space until she's all he can feel and smell. In another world, another time, they'd both be coming back from a joint SAS and MI6 mission, exhausted and filthy. They'd duck away at the earliest convenience, making excuses to Deckard of sleep and food, and rendezvous in the nearest safe location—the locker room, one of their offices, hell, even an empty briefing room. There, he'd press her up against the wall and fuck her raw while she bit into his shoulder to keep from alerting the others.

* * *

_ In his fantasies, they always make love. _

_ He takes his time kissing every inch of her even as she laughs and tugs at him in a valiant but futile effort to get him to stop. He kisses a trail down to her sex, where she squirms, embarrassed, but so very, very ready. Only and all for him. Under his tongue and hands, she comes undone to the chant of his name. Hattie always shoves him into the mattress, pins his hands above his head, and rides him afterwards, unable to sit still. Above him, she's a Valkyrie. When he comes, it's with her. She kisses him slow and sweet and teasing. _

* * *

Hattie doesn't back down even as Brixton is a hair's breadth away. Her breath is hot on his face, her skin even hotter.

"You should've killed me in Samoa," says Hattie.

"And why's that?"

Her smile grows, and for the first time since Deckard shot him, fear shoots through him.

"Because then you'd be alive."

Hattie looks over his shoulder. Brixton follows her gaze and is met with the barrel of a gun. Behind it is a man Eteon only wanted but would never get. Not with Cipher holding his leash.

* * *

_ In his fantasies, Hattie whispers, "I love you." _

* * *

The last thing Brixton Lore sees is Owen's smirk.


End file.
